


Spaghetti Strands

by ChokolatteJedi



Category: Q.U.E.E.N. - Janelle Monáe (Music Video)
Genre: BAMF Women, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cyberpunk, F/F, Past Lives, Time Travel, Yuletide Treat, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28284054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: The Time Council claimed that time was linear, and that the reason they fought so hard against unauthorized chronotic manipulations was that one mistake could lead to the destruction of their universe if the time "line" was damaged. The best comparison Cindi had been taught was that time was more like a pot of spaghetti someone had dumped onto a kitchen floor.
Relationships: Badoula/Janelle Monae, Girl in Black Shirt/Girl in Yin Yang Shirt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Spaghetti Strands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



Cindi looked around the room one last time, triple checking everything again. It wasn't that she didn't trust her helpers, but things had to go perfectly tonight. Tonight was her one chance - the twenty-seventh convergence and the third alignment and the correct location of both receptor and host in relative space - to make the connection.

The Time Council claimed that time was linear, and that the reason they fought so hard against unauthorized chronotic manipulations was that one mistake could lead to the destruction of their universe if the time "line" was damaged. Wondaland knew, and the Time Council had to know too, with their University and their scholars and their carefully sanctioned studies, that time was no such thing.

The best comparison Cindi had been taught was that time was more like a pot of spaghetti someone had dumped onto a kitchen floor. Sometimes you were on one strand, sometimes another, and sometimes one strand twined with another and you could jump between them. But more importantly, sometimes you were in the pool of sauce, or the meatball, or on the tines of the serving fork that had clattered down a foot away, with a small trail of sauce behind you to show where you belonged.

Cindi was prepared, tonight, to jump into one of those sauce pools, to swim around in a primordial mixture and find her herself, her other, through it.

The biggest secret the Time Council kept - the one Badoula had ferreted out through her studies - was that, just as time was not linear, neither were people. Cindi had been born before, and before that, and before that. And when the strands of spaghetti touched, so could those lives. The ArchAndroid, Cindi, Janelle… they were one and the same, and would be again tonight.

If everything went as planned, they would not only connect, but remain connected after the night was over. Through this connection, they could work against the Time Council, the Metropolis Ministry, and any other group that threatened regular people through manipulation and suppression. If this connection succeeded, they could use the cross-chonotic power generated to travel to other times, find other convergences. They could connect Badoula to her other selves; Mary, Yin, and Yang too. 

Perhaps they should start with the latter, actually; Badoula would understand. She might even suggest it. Yin and Yang had performed their own calculations and experiments, and had shown that they were twined together through time, never one far from the other. Their confluences and chonotic whirlpools should be identical - connecting one might even connect the other if they were so closely entwined.

Cindi knew there was a time, a place, a pool, where one of herselves fought beside the couple, and if they could awaken all three, they would have even more power and help to find the others.

The clock ticked the hour; while Cindi had been thinking the convergence had drawn near. The next clock ticked the year, then another the location of Mars. One by one each of the necessary times, locations, positions, beings, subjects and objects clicked into alignment.

Yin, in her white jumpsuit, and Yang, in her pink one, threw their respective levers as the last piece of spaghetti fell into place. Before she could fully draw a breath, Cindi was drawn into the chonotic pool, her temporal reality shifting around her. Or, perhaps, did she shift around it?

Times, places, _versions_ of her appeared, and Cindi watched them from above even as she slipped inside their skin and tapped into their - her own - minds.

_She was on a stage, Badoula to her side._

_She was in a room, pure white, while Yin and Yang hogtied a Council guard._

_She was on a boat, cold and tired._

_She was in a classroom next to Mary, taking notes._

She danced, she slept, she fought, she wrote, she loved, she preached. But more than that, she _sang_. Cindi, Janelle, Lady, Mary, Teresa, Jane… it didn't matter what name she wore, it was always her, always singing. 

The music burst forth and through and around, connecting her to herself over and over again. A her in pink danced with Mary. Another her kissed a Badoula dressed in gold. Yet another pulled her hat down low and clinked glasses with Zen. And each time, music filled her minds. 

Time passed, but in its loopy, spaghetti form, and Cindi couldn't say how much of it or where it had gone, but she was aware of her vision - no, _presence_ was a better term - returning to the chamber where the her known as Cindi had started. The pipes and machines and clocks and instrumentation were just as she remembered, and yet parts of her were seeing it all for the first time. All of their strands were tangled together, now, like a fork had been spun through them, and that was as it should be. 

Yin and Yang peered down at her as the smoke cleared. She saw them, in their jumpsuits, their expressions a mixture of concern and elation. At the same time, she saw them in a desert, kissing beside pink rocks and a joshua tree as the wind whipped their dresses. There they were in the white room, dancing together, and she noticed that Yin was wearing a time collar. The images overlaid the Yin and Yang of this time and place, and Cindi made the small adjustments needed to keep from being overwhelmed with the possibilities. 

Filtering through her minds' memories, she couldn't find one where she knew the duo and they _weren't_ together. That should make finding their confluence much easier, and with her own knowledge of the completed procedure, she was certain they could connect both of them simultaneously. 

"Is it done? Did it work?" Cindy's Badoula called over the intercom. Her precious artist, whose creativity the Time Council was determined to squash. Creativity led to questioning, and the Time Council couldn't have that. 

"We're here," Cindi replied. She had intended to say "I", but "we" was better. She was no longer a singular, but all of herselves combined. "We're fine. We love you." 

Before Badoula could reply… or maybe after? Somewhere in the sauce of time, an image struck Cindi. One of the hers needed help. An impression of stripes, and then that white room again. Yin and Yang, the time collar, another Badoula. That strand needed help, and Cindi were now able to provide it. The ArchAndroid had the ability, Jane 57821 had the knowledge, Janelle had the pipes, and Cindi had the chronotic ability. 

They needed to get Yin and Yang connected, and quickly, and then they could take on the Time Council and Metropolis Ministry, and anyone else who went against them. Cindi - Janelle - the ArchAndroid - they were ready. They were rebels who traveled through time, and they would spread their freedom movements to anyone who needed them. 


End file.
